The King & I: How Elvis Taught Me to Love History

The other day I went to King Henry VIII’s joust at Hampton Court Palace. I wore the prettiest hand-sewn gown that I had painstakingly sewn in 24 hours last month. I wore that velvet gown all day in the 90-degree heat, struggling, sweating, and of course looking gorgeous, until I just could not take it anymore. Changing into the Graceland t-shirt I had packed earlier that morning, I felt the happiest I had all day. Content in my Elvis shirt while walking around one of England’s most infamous palaces, I did little else but go “take my picture wearing the King’s t-shirt in the English King’s palace.”

The contrast between British royalty and American democracy is always on my mind. Lately, there has been a lot of discussion about whether or not the man who sits behind the Resolute Desk at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is a king. But political debates aside, there will only ever be one American King… and his name was Elvis Presley.

The other day I went to King Henry VIII’s joust at Hampton Court Palace. I wore the prettiest hand-sewn gown that I had painstakingly sewn in 24 hours last month. I wore that velvet gown all day in the 90-degree heat, struggling, sweating, and of course looking gorgeous, until I just could not take it anymore. Changing into the Graceland t-shirt I had packed earlier that morning, I felt the happiest I had all day. Content in my Elvis shirt while walking around one of England’s most infamous palaces, I did little else but go “take my picture wearing the King’s t-shirt in the English King’s palace.”

The contrast between British royalty and American democracy is always on my mind. Lately, there has been a lot of discussion about whether or not the man who sits behind the Resolute Desk at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is a king. But political debates aside, there will only ever be one American King… and his name was Elvis Presley.

As a youngster, I never really got the big deal about him. I liked some of his music, but to me, he was just someone a lot of people impersonated in Vegas. That perspective changed entirely the day I walked through the wrought iron gates of Graceland.

I remember that day vividly. I was supposed to go on a general tour of Memphis, Tennessee, but someone didn’t feel well, and a ticket to Graceland opened up. It felt as if I had won one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets. At that point, I was working as a historian on cruise ships and often felt the isolation of solo traveling. Fortunately, a wonderful couple invited me to tour with them. I am so thankful they did, because it transformed my visit into one of the best days of my life. 

After a quick video introduction and photoshoot, we walked through the house. We made faces in the mirror staircase, admired the crazy cool pattern of the fabric-lined pool room, and stood in awe of the Jungle Room. In the museum, we examined the endless galleries that took us through Elvis’s early life, military career, Hollywood films, and even a display on other artists (like John Stamos, aka Uncle Jesse) whom he inspired. I took it all in, posed with the giant Elvis sign, recreated Jailhouse Rock, and examined the all-important gift shops.

As a youngster, I never really got the big deal about him. I liked some of his music, but to me, he was just someone a lot of people impersonated in Vegas. That perspective changed entirely the day I walked through the wrought iron gates of Graceland.

I remember that day vividly. I was supposed to go on a general tour of Memphis, Tennessee, but someone didn’t feel well, and a ticket to Graceland opened up. It felt as if I had won one of Willy Wonka’s golden tickets. At that point, I was working as a historian on cruise ships and often felt the isolation of solo traveling. Fortunately, a wonderful couple invited me to tour with them. I am so thankful they did, because it transformed my visit into one of the best days of my life. 

After a quick video introduction and photoshoot, we walked through the house. We made faces in the mirror staircase, admired the crazy cool pattern of the fabric-lined pool room, and stood in awe of the Jungle Room. In the museum, we examined the endless galleries that took us through Elvis’s early life, military career, Hollywood films, and even a display on other artists (like John Stamos, aka Uncle Jesse) whom he inspired. I took it all in, posed with the giant Elvis sign, recreated Jailhouse Rock, and examined the all-important gift shops.

To an extent, the commercial cash grabs everywhere. At times, you wondered if you were at an amusement park or a historical home. But what I was experiencing was something different, something deeper than just walking through the house of a stranger.

My experience was profound because I was not going through it alone, or even with a group of people my own age who had never set eyes on the human being behind the displays.

Because I was touring with this couple, I had the opportunity to tour Graceland with someone who loved Elvis the exact way I love Taylor Swift. I heard their firsthand memories, learned what it had been like to witness the Vegas residency, and watched as they took in the rows of Elvis outfits, cars, and memorabilia. You could see the deep impact the displays were having on the souls I was examining with. It moved them, and, therefore, it moved me.

It wasn’t just coming from the gentleman I was walking with, either. Everyone visiting had an Elvis story, had been touched by him, and was riding some version of an emotional wave. Some told me their opinions on Elvis and Priscilla, the drugs, and the politics. Others shared military stories or memories of watching Elvis and Ann-Margret in the theaters. We ate lunch in classic convertibles, and I just soaked up the laughter and joy of those around me.

We then went to Sun Studios, the famous Memphis spot that launched Elvis Presley’s early career. I watched as the group ran off the bus with such excitement; it was impossible not to be sucked into the mood. For me, the excitement peaked while listening to a story about Ringo Starr recording there. 

To many, it probably felt like a standard museum outing. For me, it was a day that a group of strangers ran around laughing, sharing stories, and taking so many photos that my phone died long before the day was over (records show that I took 792 photos and videos that day). They played pranks on me, shared touching moments, and even gifted me an Elvis scarf that will forever be a prized possession. 

We then went to Sun Studios, the famous Memphis spot that launched Elvis Presley’s early career. I watched as the group ran off the bus with such excitement; it was impossible not to be sucked into the mood. For me, the excitement peaked while listening to a story about Ringo Starr recording there. 

To many, it probably felt like a standard museum outing. For me, it was a day that a group of strangers ran around laughing, sharing stories, and taking so many photos that my phone died long before the day was over (records show that I took 792 photos and videos that day). They played pranks on me, shared touching moments, and even gifted me an Elvis scarf that will forever be a prized possession. 

It has been two years since that day, and I still categorize it as one of the best days of my life, one in which I felt entirely alive. My Graceland shirt is one of my favorite possessions, and I travel around London with it because those memories remain so potent.

Yesterday, that t-shirt traveled to King’s Cross, where it sat with me by the canal as I watched the Elvis movie on a large screen. It was a very “I live in London” moment, one that ironically revolved around a quintessentially American icon. 

Through the movie, we learned about Colonel Parker and his relationship with Elvis. We were reminded how easily a passion can be manipulated, and how slippery a slope life can be. But it made me think about something more.

I might not have grown up a die-hard fan, but the legacy of Elvis is everywhere: television, movies, music, Vegas… there’s even a yearly Elvis impersonation contest where performers sound next to identical to him. All of these things, and the stories we share, remind us that there are many sides to a single narrative. As a historian, that is a beautiful thing to remember.

I enjoy saying that I am a big fan of Elvis now… a love that has been going strong for two years. I know most of his catalog by heart. Yet, he remains a historical figure who will always be unique to me. I don’t love him because of his music or because of the cold facts of his biography. What I love is what I gained through him. I love the King of Rock because of the people who taught me about him. It’s the glint they had in their eyes, the happiness he made them feel, and the pure adoration that brought them genuine joy. I love the memories I created through the memories of this historical icon.

To me, Elvis evokes emotions similar to the smell of an old print shop or the transportive feel of historic boxwoods. It’s all about the community and connections that history can forge.

I suppose I could say “long live the king,” but it is more accurate to say: long live the feeling of genuine happiness he left behind. 

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